Have you ever thought about life? Like, not in general, but how it's a blank canvas and all? Well, I have.

And life will always be a torn up canvas. Your mind ponders over 'the'. Now, you may ask what 'the' question is. Well 'the' question is, why is life a torn up canvas?

Why is that canvas, in particular, torn, old, scratched all over, and busted up? Why is it like that? Why? Did it deserve it? No? Yes? Maybe? Answer me. Say something, please.

The desperation in it's voice rings through your ears. But what can you possibly do? Nothing... The answer is nothing...

Life will always be a precious thing. Nevertheless, it will always be a torn up canvas.